


Hair Trigger

by Corvid_Knight



Series: Stabdad (Integrated Worlds) [15]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dave and Psii both have PTSD, Gen, also Psii parents whatever is close enough, i forgot what my own AU was called, implied DaveSol kismesis, integrated worlds stabdad branch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:00:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24169255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvid_Knight/pseuds/Corvid_Knight
Summary: "I think I see why Sollux likes you." A couple psionic sparks bleed off the corners of Psii's eyes—it makes you think of one of those barely there smiles that're contained more in the eyes than anywhere else, the really sincere ones—and he peels the backing off the bandaid so he can stick it to your forehead. You think it's yellow like Sol's tongue, from the quick look you get of it. Makes sense; that's his blood color too. "I really am sorry about this—projectiles seem more dangerous than they are to me, sometimes. Old habits."He was a ship's brain for a while, you remember. Shit, ofcoursestuff flying at him would trigger all the defenses he can muster. "Eh, I think that's sorta trauma."Dave achieves a personal goal with Sollux and has a run-in with Psii.
Series: Stabdad (Integrated Worlds) [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1175588
Comments: 28
Kudos: 99





	Hair Trigger

You've done it. You've finally managed the greatest achievement possible in your weirdly antagonistic and maybe-not-quite-platonic relationship with Sollux. You, Dave Strider, made him throw up his hands and make him walk out of a room. And not just any room—no, you rapped at him and fucked up his timing with the rhythm minigame he was working on enough to drive him out of his _own room_ in his _own house._

Hive. Whatever. You saw him stomp out into the yard, anyway, trailing blue and red sparks. This is _definitely_ a big fuckin' victory for your side in the weird war between the two of you. Hell fucking yes.

...huh. You guess you're alone here now, though—Mituna, Roxy, and Vriska had some kind of plans involving either petty theft or guerilla art, and all three of the Zahhaks are over at D's place—which is...weird. Weirder than the whole situation with Sollux, honestly. You don't think you've been the only one in a building since Jack brought you to Alternia—contrary to most of the shit humans seem to think, trolls are pretty damn social, especially within their extended families. And you're definitely part of one of those, by at least two vectors—the blend of pale and red relationship you've landed in with Karkat is one, and D's more direct blood ties to you is another. Not to mention Jack's...friends? Business partners? Whatever; Snowman's some kind of weird alien aunt at this point. More alien than the trolls, actually—even if they pass for human pretty well, the carapacians _really_ aren't. You think—

Actually, you think you're rambling. It's probably food time now.

You make your way to the kitchen, consciously struggling to not do it as stealthily as you want to. It's funny—you've mostly got over the urge to hide the normal need to feed yourself from anyone who's around, but once there _isn't_ anyone around? Yeah, you slip back into the old caution. Like he's here, but only when you can't see him. Kinda stupid.

But you're not going to stress over that shit, and you're not going to try that hard to keep yourself from doing it. Being quiet while you look through the cabinets is okay. Opening a thing of the Alternian equivalent of toaster pastries (Karkat's told you what they're called but you already forgot and you can't read Alternian off the box) so carefully that the wrapper doesn't rustle even as you tuck it into your pocket is okay. Eating the entire fucking thing in one bite is _not_ okay; you force yourself to take smaller bites even though that ratchets your anxiety up just a couple notches higher, drowning out the weird savory taste a lil' bit. That's okay, though, because the point is to not choke or start yourself coughing. Not because he might hear, of course. That'd be stupid. No, this is just because you'll flip your shit if you can't breathe, you don't want to accidentally—

A door creaks open—not the one leading outside and not the one you came in here through either. Shit. Shit. _Shit._

For a second you're not in Sollux's kitchen. Not even on Alternia. For a second you forget where you are and where _he_ is, and you cram the rest of the toaster pastry in your mouth and grab for the first thing you can get ahold of off the counter, hurling it towards whoever's here with the same motion you use to drop into a defensive crouch.

_I don't have my sword oh god why don't I have my sword_

Blue and red lightning explodes as you pivot to face the threat, sending ceramic shards flying everywhere. You feel one score high on your forehead; thank fuck for your shades. You like keeping both your eyes intact, thanks. They're important for a lot of things...

...like being able to identify the tall, wide-eyed troll standing in the door to the walk-in pantry as Psii. Sol's dad. Lusus. Guardian.

Oh.

Damn, he looks as rattled as you are. "...uh—"

Psii winces and holds up a hand to stop you, closing his eyes with an obvious effort. When he opens them again, most of the two-tone lightning crackling across his face and through his hair fades away, although he keeps the unnerved look for another second. Then it's (mostly) replaced by concern, directed at...you, unfortunately. "Dave?"

"Uh-huh." The side of your face itches; you swipe the heel of your hand across it and find unexpected wetness. Oh yeah, pieces of broken dishes tend to be, y'know, sharp. "Oh. Shit."

"I'm sorry—here, let me see." Psii winces again, either at the look on your face or just the fact you're bleeding, and pulls open a drawer to get a washcloth. You're still running on panic brain, a lil' bit—it's hard not to flinch when he puts a hand under your chin to get you to tilt your head back. At least he doesn't try to take your shades off as he presses the washcloth against the cut on your forehead. "You're...very quiet."

"Uh, yeah." Apologies seem to be in order. Or explanations. Something. "I just, uh...I didn't know anybody was here..."

"Good to know we can both startle each other." There's a wry note in the troll's voice as he pulls back to get a better look at the cut—and has to grab your hand as you try to do the tactile version of the same thing. "Were you expecting Sollux?"

"Nah, he's outside trying to talk himself out of murdering me." (Not that he'd _actually_ do that. Sol's safe. You wouldn't willingly be here if he wasn't.) "Wouldn't throw shit at him anyway. Not on purpose. Uh—I didn't mean to throw that at you either. I'll replace the cup—"

"Technically, I'm the one who broke it," Psii points out, letting go of your hand and waiting a moment to see if you're going to try to touch it again. When you don't, he turns to reach on top of one of the cabinets, pulling down a box you recognize as an Alternian military-issue first aid kit and laying it on the counter to open it.

Huh. "Well, I feel like that's overkill."

He looks up with the ghost of another smile, selecting what you're guessing is a tiny packet of antibiotic gel and what's _definitely_ a bandaid before closing the kit again. "You've met my kids. We have emergencies when we need the full range of treatment about twice a perigee. Can I put it on, or do you need to do it yourself?"

Well. On the one hand, you sort of want to see how bad it is; on the other, fixing shit in a mirror sucks. It just does. The only thing worse is trying to fix shit in places like your back, where you can't even get a decent view with the mirror. Plus, you can just get a look at home when you take the bandaid off for the night...without having to see actual fresh blood. "Yeah, you do it."

"You're easier than Mituna." Psii shrugs and tears the corner of the packet open, squeezing it onto one finger and reaching out to gently dab it onto the cut on your forehead. It stings, but you've definitely had worse; you don't even flinch away from his hand. Nice. "Even before he was hurt that time he hated sitting still to be patched up. Sollux had to talk him into it half the time, or just do it instead of me."

You can imagine that. You like Mituna, but you're still working out all the weird rules he's got for shit—the only reason you haven't totally fucked shit up yet is that Sollux usually sidetracks the worst potential fuckups before you actually commit them. Now, the image of Sollux patching _you_ up? That one's a lil' bit harder to envision. And it's...you don't know. Weirder? Having Psii fixing shit is weird enough; you're used to cooperating with adult shit, and Jack's cleaned up injuries before, sure, but that's. Different. With Jack it's like you're one of the other carapacians he brings over, like you're one of his crew, but Psii...

He treats you like a kid. Like, you _are_ a kid, that's a thing, it's just...weird, you guess, having your injuries treated like the kind of thing that happens to someone under whatever the fuck the cutoff is for having a parent be the one to look it over and express reassurance and concern and put the bandaid on.

Okay, maybe you need to talk to Rose at least about this specific train of thought. She'll probably have some thoughts on how to bring it up to your actual shrink. Now you just gotta figure out how to explain it to her...

The sound of paper tearing snaps you out of that consideration, but it's just Psii ripping the bandaid open. He doesn't move to stick it to your forehead yet, though—just waits for a second, watching you.

"What?"

"Are you okay?"

Oh. He saw your reaction to the sound— ripping paper isn't like breaking glass or metal on anything, not one of the really bad ones, the ones that'll straight out freeze you up or send you fleeing to whatever the closest safe place is, but you were a lil' zoned out. You probably jumped. "Totally chill, yeah. We're a go for liftoff, Houston doesn't have a single fuckin' problem for once—"

"I think I see why Sollux likes you." A couple psionic sparks bleed off the corners of Psii's eyes—it makes you think of one of those barely there smiles that're contained more in the eyes than anywhere else, the really sincere ones—and he peels the backing off the bandaid so he can stick it to your forehead. You think it's yellow like Sol's tongue, from the quick look you get of it. Makes sense; that's his blood color too. "I really am sorry about this—projectiles seem more dangerous than they are to me, sometimes. Old habits."

He was a ship's brain for a while, you remember. Shit, of _course_ stuff flying at him would trigger all the defenses he can muster. "Eh, I think that's sorta trauma."

Psii blinks—you don't think he was expecting that. Then he smiles again. "You're more polite about letting me know I'm being a condescending bitch than almost all of the people around here, you know."

"Polite? Me?" You give him your biggest shit-eating grin. "Kankri would have a fuckin' fit."

"Of course he would." Psii shakes his head as the door opens; this time you correctly identify it as just Sollux slipping back inside, and react by turning to make a face at him instead of doing anything stupid.

He takes the high road instead of pulling a face back at you, just wrinkling his nose like something's spoiled. "Why the fuck doeth it thmell like ozone in here?"

You look at Psii. Psii looks at you.

"No reason," you tell Sol. "Hey, bet I can beat that level before you can."

He bares his teeth—it might be a grin, but it's not a smile. "You're on," he says, and then it's just a matter of racing him back to his room and to the good controller. You're _so_ gonna kick his ass this time.


End file.
